


An Aftermath

by GalacticTwink



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Canon, Suicidal Thoughts, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22627888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticTwink/pseuds/GalacticTwink
Summary: Jeremy feels a weight pressing down on his chest
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Jeremy Heere's Squip
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30
Collections: GalacticTwink Highlights





	An Aftermath

The Squip brushes the hair from my brow, shining eyes blurred over me as he strokes his thumb across my cheek. I’m more than late for school, my limbs welded to the bed too tightly to lift them. I feel so heavy, even lifting my head a struggle. But I try again, telling myself to get up. It can’t be that hard, I just need to suck it up. I have so much to do, the weight of my responsibility resting on my chest, even though I couldn’t name a single one of them right now. I just know, all I’m doing right now is making myself an even bigger disappointment. To my dad, to my friends, to my squip, and.. to myself. I pull myself onto my elbows, the squip’s hands easing me back down into bed.

“Not today, Slugger. Stay down.” what? I stare up at him, tears still speckling my vision. He wipes them away, climbing up to sit beside me in bed. The blankets don’t even ruffle, reminding me that he isn’t there at all. “I’m useless. I can’t do anything. I can’t even get out of bed.” he shushes me, fingers combing through my unwashed hair. I don’t remember the last shower I took. The thought of the hot water spraying down on me makes my wrists hurt, still wrapped tightly in whatever I could make a bandage out of the other night; I don’t remember what.

“You’re not useless,” “But I’m not doing anything.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “If I’m not learning or working or doing something then what am I for? Why am I still here? I fucked up my parents and my friends, I can’t keep a grade up, I can’t even get out of bed. What’s the use of breathing when I’m just a waste of air?” my squip leans down to kiss my forehead, tears sticking to my lashes as I close my eyes; trying to feel his touch on my sweat slicked skin. “You’re here. Living, breathing, experiencing. Is that not enough? To try and fail is what it means to be human, and in that respect you’ve proven yourself time and time again. Struggling to get from one day to the next, is that not what it means to exist?" I sigh.

“Kiss me?” he does, my chest trembling as I sob. Aching for him. I press a hand against my chest, and I swear I can feel the hole he left; gaping and yearning for my squip. For someone I didn’t know I needed so much.

When I look up again he’s gone, just a memory of what I could’ve had. What I did have. I feel like I’m ripping apart at the seams, nails scratching at my throat wishing I could scream out for him. For anyone. Desperately wishing I wasn’t so alone. No one could forgive me. I can’t even forgive me. I would give everything for another chance, an opportunity to take him by the hand and let him take anything he wanted from me.

I’ve never felt someone care about me as much as The Squip did, and I never will again. I can’t even muster up the strength to pretend I care about myself. I could die right now and no one would miss me, would regret scorning me, pushing me and spitting in my face. I was lonely before, desperate for someone. Now I have no one. I don’t think I’m here anymore. A ghost, just like him.

I struggle to look at my bedside table, staring at the dark screen of my phone. Sometimes, I feel like I’m waiting for someone to tell me to kill myself, just to feel like I have an excuse to do it. To push a little harder, climb a little higher, wait a little longer. Knowing that I’ll be doing someone else a favor. If I don’t do it myself, I think I’ll be crushed. The weight of everything I did and everything I wish I did sitting on my windpipe. The memory of what they did to me caught in my throat, stuck just before I can cry out or tell anyone.

I don’t think I’ll get to see him when I go. His code fizzled and broken inside me.But maybe I’ll get stuck too. I don’t deserve to feel warm again, to feel safe. I’ve never felt safe. But I haven’t been able to force myself to do anything horrible enough to deserve damnation. Even the fires of hell would be better than how cold I feel now.

I don’t deserve to be alive. But I don’t deserve the release of death either.


End file.
